Life After Love III
by EvieVixen
Summary: Evelyn Potter is beginning her sixth year at Hogwarts. Everything is changing both within Hogwarts itself and within the muggle and wizarding worlds outside. And Evelyn Potter is changing with it.
1. Chapter 1

Underneath me the stairs creaked. I shifted moving my balance to my left foot as I leaned into the wall. Another step down, the floor creaked again and I leaned further onto the wall. My torso pressed into it as I settled onto my right foot. The woolen fabric of the carpet kept my barren feet warm, even through the humid heat that settled in the house. I tensed the muscles within my legs, holding the left foot just above the step below. I waited for the lightening to flash and then as the thunder echoed, I scurried down the remaining stairs. None of the groaning from the stairs was too recognizable through the loud clashes from outside.

The cool tile of the kitchen floor felt slippery underneath my feet; the slime residue of my mum's muggle tile wash, sticking to the dry, ringed, skin on my feet. I padded around, getting used to the cold and adjusting the shirt I had on. It had ridden up whilst I had pressed myself to the wall. A shiver ran up my spine as I took another step; the current settled after a couple of seconds as I reached the cabinets. I gathered up a glass and the pitcher of water, before leaping up onto the top of the wooden counter island. The small un-sanded pieces pricked the bottom of my bum causing me to wiggle and scratch at the softly irritated skin. I turned to the left, staring out the translucent doors. Watching the rain, I continued to shift as one leg grew too itchy to ignore, and gulped down the water. The rain splattered and created a tapping rhythm, trying to dance away the sweat that lay splattered across my skin. I stared out, facing the darkness of outside.

Even now, that cold shudder passed over me; not from the cold humidity but from what settled in my mind. The hand raised in my direction, pulling me and yanking me from the safe confines of the closet. Her nails bit into the skin of my skull, pulling lose some of my hairs. I could feel the plucking of my blonde hairs as the skin raised and then fell as the hairs loosened from their pores within her tight grasp. My feet had scrambled to keep with her brisk pace along the wooden floors, kicking and knocking into the walls. I remember the way her fingers were painted a light lilac purple, but her nails were never properly cut. They always had bits and pieces that hung from the sides and could pinch into skin easily. They were long, bony fingers too; I could feel each and every joint as the hand tugged, either on my arm or my hair.

The thunder clashed, like falling pots and pans, bringing me back from the dark sight ahead of me. The nightmare was over once I had woken up, but the physical feeling I had settled upon my shoulders. I could just remember the way my legs would be lathered with bruises of yellow and purple for days, and the way my ribs felt from the searing dents in them. I glanced away from the glass-paneled windows and hopped down from the counter. My feet had fallen asleep, and I gripped the counter until I started to feel pins and needles. They sparkled as I began to walk, or stumble as I had to find the most comfortable way to reach the fridge. I stuck the water back in the fridge after I poured my fourth and final glass. The cold sweat, parched lips and massive head-ache had soothed. My tongue lulled and rolled through my mouth as I lapped at the water. I walked slowly, taking minutes with each step as I moved back towards the counter whilst drinking down the water.

As the lightening blazed through the sky again, I heard wood belching. I spun around, thinking it was one of James' nightly check-ups but found him missing. The doorway where he usually stood was vacant and I could see clearly into the dark hallway. I placed my cup down, feeling my hands growing numb as I moved away from the counter. Slowly, I peered around the hallway, hiding the majority of my body behind the massive doors to the kitchen. The thick wood felt comfortable underneath my feeling less fingers and allowed my heart to relax its contractions. I waited for another sound, but I was only greeted with the shadowy sketch of the door. I turned back to the counter, but then turned back. My glass of water lay forgotten on the counter as the door rattled within its frame again.

I flicked the hallway lights on and approached the doors. Slowly the engravings on the door started to become clearer the closer I got. The door banged again and then froze. I froze. I could feel the stuffy, thickness of my hands as they clench and unclenched. My feet stopped, and I could feel my weight slipping to the floor. I grasped the wall, finding the minimal balance for my quivering legs. The door didn't move, so I waited for just a moment. I took several deep breathes, hoping to ease away the pulsations in my ears. I curled my fingers again, finally having an easier time doing that, and then took another tentative step towards the door. Finally I reached the end of the long passageway. Leaning towards the door I placed my hands to the engraved plank of wood. The Potter family crest printed into my hand as I leaned up and looked through the small glass panel at the top of the door. Peering through the door, I could see nothing but black and glistening raindrops on the window pane. I paused; nothing?

Feeling the curiosity bubbling up my blood tingled for satisfaction. Nothing could not have made that sound or have rattled the door. I closed my eyes, my hands traveling to the cool metal of the door-knob. As my hand latched on, my own bony fingers curling, I struggled to breathe again. Forcing several deep breathes I yanked the door open, the wind helping to push both the door and the body into the hallway.

I lay under the wet, warm body for minutes. The cantors of their stomach squished into mine and I could feel a pulsating magic seeping into my shaking body. My shirt slowly soaked through, and I could hear the splatter of rain against the wood floors of the house. Everything down my legs now stuck to the skin, from the person lying on top of me and from the water that washed into the house from outside. I struggled to lift my arm, squirming them and wriggling them through the excess weight. The feeling had finally returned, and my fingers could latch onto the carpet laid out by my sides. I pulled out from underneath the weight as I grinded into the carpeted floor and crawled backwards. The pain in my ribs lessened and I could feel air rushing deeply into my lungs. As soon as my face reached above the person's body, I could feel the slashing of the wind against my cheeks and the soft pats of rain drops. The wind whipped around us and I could vaguely see something rectangular had landed in the doorway along with a pair of clad feet, attached to legs, attached to a torso. Peering down I was greeted by melted, black curls.

"Sirius?" I questioned. I glanced between the trunk and the body. I received no response. Suddenly feeling hollow, I surged forward and pushed him over.

His entire chest was covered with blood. Dark magic pulsated from the wounds and a vague tint of purple shadowed the skin. Scars, new and old, riddled the scantily covered skin. The shirt around him had flooded with blood, and was hanging loosely from his torso as it was half-way open. Sirius' face parted, his lips turning blue and his eyes screwed shut. Even in his unconscious state, Sirius was feeling the effects of the curse. The usually, slightly tan complexion had fled - leaving an unconscious, pale boy in its wake. The blood spurted up and I stared shocked down at the flowing stream of red. Suddenly noise filtered back into my senses, and so had my responses.

"Mom!" I hollered, fighting with the roar of the wind and the banging of the door, which was slamming into the wall behind it. "Mum!"

As I heard no feet splattered from the floor upstairs, I reached behind me and grabbed at the door. The wood brought me back to life as I whirled around and found strength beneath my feet. I busily looked back at Sirius as I attempted to close the door, but every time I did I found resistance. I whipped back around to the stubborn door and quickly spotted what was impeding my success. I pulled Sirius' trunk, letting it fall back to the floor as the door slammed shut. I reached back down to Sirius soon afterwards and looked around. What do I do? My mind fluttered and I kept glancing from Sirius' face to his chest, which was still pouring blood.

"Mum!" I called again as silence befell the house. I could feel bile and grit rising through my voice. "Dad! James!" I could feel my voice lifting as I kept shouting. The panic filtered through as I numbly stared down at my brother's friend. His breathing was getting shallower, and the blood wouldn't stop moving. His face was quickly draining of what little color it had left and nobody in the house was waking up. "Mum!"

Some shifting from upstairs and tentative steps caused the floor to groan again. I looked towards the top of the stairs in hopes that finally there would be someone there. But I couldn't make out any shape of my mum, dad or James. The doors had probably peered open, curious if their ears had imagined another sound other than the smooth creaking of the house; but much like me, they were probably waiting by the frame to see if another shout would come. I shifted back to Sirius, finally remembering what mom had told me. Ignoring the anger that swelled upon my skin and the piercing swords that stabbed into my hands, I placed pressure on the deepest gash on his abdomen.

"Mum!" I yelled and finally the steps groaned with my mom's heavy steps. I looked up, most of my weight still holding down Sirius and his wound. Her form slowly got more and more distinct until she reached the bottom of the stairwell. Her usual brown, turning gray hair, fell upon her shoulders in a frazzled manner and she combed through it to gain some sort of recognition to reality.

"What is going on? Why are you down here?" She questioned, pulling her robe close to her curved body. Her blurred gaze fell short as she glanced at the body of Sirius Black. "What's happened?"

Her scream broke the stale, questioning and worried air. She was quick to move though, despite her unnaturally sharp scream. My dad's feet followed and then the sluggish steps of James echoed down the aged steps. My mom knelt before me, sitting on the opposite of Sirius' body, and began taking in the extent of his injuries.

"Pad!" James' twisted words fell upon the ground.

I could only continue to keep pressure on the spurting wound. I looked up briefly as I felt dad yanking me backwards. His long torso covered up my view of Sirius and I watched as he placed his hands over the wound. Mom's wand less magic had her summoning her wand to her hand in split seconds. I could only continue to stare as dad nearly crushed Sirius' ribs with the force he was using. I hardly recognized as James' arm wrapped around me and started to tug me into a suddenly lit living room. James scurried around, working on the couch and preparing the necessary utilities that Sirius would need. White linens soon covered the mud colored couch, and the table was pushed further away, just leaving space enough to walk through. I hadn't even realized James had sat me down in the corner of the entrance, where I would be out of the way but where he could still see me.

My hands now rested on my lap. The blood felt gooey and slick beneath and in between my fingers. I wriggled them, feeling them slide about and then clenched my hands into fists. The blood waved up and created little mountains around where my fingers began to indent my skin. My white nails now lay lathered with Sirius' blood, and just below I could feel the burnings from the curse that I had recklessly placed my hands upon. I uncurled my fingers and stared down at the deep, dark red upon my palms; skin charred black from the curse and coated with blood from the wound. I probably looked like a mess, but as I looked around my clothes, the only blood stain I could find was the one by my stomach, where Sirius had landed.

I brought my head up to reach James' eyes, who had settled upon me as he finished his task. His brown eyes raked over me, scanning for injury and stopping at the blood that lay piled on my hands and my shirt. His tight smile lay limp upon his face and I couldn't help but grimace back.


	2. Chapter 2

"Eves, wakey wakey."

I groaned feeling a short prodding at my stomach, causing me to wiggle slightly. The pressure increased, until the area was set aflame. I could barely breathe as my eye shot open; just above me, hung the head of James. His glossy black hair, still messy and wind-blown whirled around his head. His long torso extended up, moving away from me as he grinned down at me. His smile stretched across the width of his face, the tightness of his lips gone, and his teeth glared mercilessly at me. Just above me, the small, sprinkling of a beard could be seen as he tilted his head so that the sun caught his jaw bone at the right angle. I grimaced, feeling the pressure on my torso tighten. Looking down I realized, that James had perched himself on top of me, squishing my lungs. I wrangled out of it, bucking up to get James to fall off. He fell over, dramatizing the whole scene as he lay with fake awed expression.

"How did you do that?" he questioned, as he began to pick at my limp arms. They flapped, hanging from his grasp. "With those stick-like limbs of yours? Impressive!"

I groaned, and rolled over forgetting that I was actually perched on the cushions of a love seat. James' thick legs caught me before the floor, but my head banged down, slapping the wood. The shock tore up the side of my head and I clutched at it, hissing and cocooning my head into my arms. I planted my fists to my temples, gnawing and rubbing them down to get rid of the new pain. I felt my legs slump down to the floor, as James' heat left. It was quickly replaced by his hands pulling me up and snatching my hands into his own.

"Don't rub it so hard." He murmured, looking intently at the reddened skin of my temples. His fingers briefly flittered over my skin and then running through my hair. The pain still plastered there, like an itch that's never scratched and I moaned twitching with the unbridled anxiety. "Breathe Eves. It'll pass."

James' husky voice lulled on, as my legs finally stopped squirming as an outlet for the muzzled pain. I stayed placed up against James' chest, and heaved a deep breath. He smelled musky, thick and while not totally gross, it was obvious he had not showered off last night's sweat. Still, I planted myself there and breathed, closing my eyes at the vibrating rise and fall of his chest. I was pushed back, yet again, by his hands and his laugh hung down between us. I opened my eyes to face his brown orbs and smiled at his wide grin.

"Falling asleep again, Eves?"

"Maybe." My voice floated off, as James let my body fall back. My shoulder blades fell just on top of the cushions, and my head rolled backwards.

We sat there quietly, listening to each other breathing as we floundered over what to say. Sirius had suddenly appeared, worse for wear, which was saying it nicely, and now the war had landed on our front doorstep. It was obvious that Sirius had gotten into a fight with his parents, most likely about muggle-borns and blood-traitors, but as Sirius hadn't woken up yet, neither of us had a full idea what was going on.

It wasn't a new concept though, ever since the past summer people had begun disappearing. James and I, along with the rest of the Hogwarts students, were only clued in by the Daily Prophets, but even then news wouldn't show up for days as Dumbledore had placed strict bans on what newspapers could get into the building. Undoubtedly, what we saw was the most censored, diluted version of what was actually going on. When James and I returned how, dad wasn't all too willing to help either. No talk of the war was covered at the dinner table, something mum had made quite clear; but both of us knew that the war was only just beginning.

Now that Sirius was here, it brought the war to the forefront of our thoughts. Obviously, we both knew that Sirius hated his family from the first moment we had meet him; something James was pretty stubborn about me knowing, so that I wouldn't bring it up in conversation. It had never gotten so bad that he was forced to leave the house, though he was always very willing to get back on the Hogwarts express. If the war was starting to effect family households that much…

I wandered away from my thoughts as James stood up. His pro-offered hand lifted me from the floor, and I wobbled there for a few moments. The view changed and I could barely spot Sirius' legs protruding from the couch, over James' shoulder.

"How is he?" I whispered, nodding my head over towards the boy. As James turned to look as well, I caught a glimpse of matted dark curls, and a slow rise and fall of Sirius' chest.

"Mum, says he'll be better soon. He's going to be bed-ridden for days though." James' hair flew widely, scattering about as he ran a hand through it. "If he doesn't wake up today, then it'll be the day after. Either way, mum made up the guest room for him and he'll be floated up. He's not supposed to be walking."

Subconsciously I found myself wandering over to the body; my step sticky as my mind was running slower. I had barely acknowledged James' synopsis of his friend before I had slipped past him. Sirius looked so normal, as if was sleeping off any other hard day that he had had. There were only a few visible acknowledgements that gave away his condition. His arms and torso were wrapped around in white linens; one arm hung off the couch, while the other lay across his chest. The dark purple had disappeared and instead his chest glowed a crystal white. The crevices on his forehead deepened as he mumbled something underneath his breathe. Cautiously I tinkled my fingers across the furrowed skin, and then patted his hair. I pulled away as I brought my own mummified hands up for examination. They were wrapped within the same thin gauze, but I could feel the pulsating of the dark magic as I pulled and stretched the skin on my hand. The very tips of my fingers were the only part of my hand not covered by the gauze, by even they were singed black.

"Mum said your hands would be fine in a couple days too." James admitted, as I could feel his stare upon my back. I looked over at him cautiously and spotted his uniquely curiously worried gaze. "She had to fix Sirius first, so by the time she got to you the magic had already done some damage to the muscles and skin of your hands. Dads' are better off than yours, since he didn't have to put pressure on the wounds for as long a time."

The silence appeared again and the two of us stared at each other. Quickly I covered the distance and through myself at James' hard body. I gripped tightly, ignoring the burning that now swept through my hands, and curled my fingers into his shirt. His heat felt good against the magic on my hands, and I pulled him closer. I rested my head on top of his heartbeat as his arms settled around my shoulders and his own head tucked into my hair. His grip tightened briefly before I was forced away.

"I'm hungry." James' mouth moved, and his smile replaced the worry deep within his brown orbs. "And you smell bad."

"No worse than you." I grunted back, pulling back further from him. My lips turned down, forcing an uncomfortable grimace on my face.

Laughing, James dragged me away from Sirius, and it to the kitchen. His arm felt good wrapped around my shoulder, and I nuzzled briefly into his side. As I breathed in the scent of mum's magic waffles, I slipped away from James and scurried through the passageway into the kitchen. The bright lights blinded me for a second, but I blinked away the burning, and went straight over to mum. Her curved body, wasn't as put together as it usually would have been in the early morning, but she still dawned her bathrobe. It had been given as a gift from James and me one year, which is why it was charmed to have the image of all our faces flash on it. Mum had taken it well, so well that she improved on it; so now the bathrobe flashed multiple different faces, everything from James winking to me spitting out water from my mouth.

I latched onto mom and hugged her firmly. I could barely reach my arms all the way around her cushioned body. One of mum's hands lapped at my arm, and goose-bumps rose from my skin, the hair sticking up on ends. I buried my head into the furry bathrobe and then giving her a tight squeeze, let go. I slipped away from her and moved over to dad.

He was talking mutedly with James, as both their heads bowed close to each other and to the table. I admired the way dad's hunched back curled around the wooden table, and how angled away from the table. He arched backwards leaning back into his chair, as he gave James a hard look. His lips were pursed slightly and he shook his head, causing his graying hair to flap around. I jumped at the opportunity, trying to avoid them getting in a fight and easily wandered over to them.

"Wha'cha talking about?" I questioned, flopping down on James' lap, and slinging my arm around his shoulders. His grip automatically found my waist and my thigh as he kept me from sliding off. I glanced between the two steeled men and rolled my eyes. "If you don't tell me, I'm going to get angry."

The two boys looked my way, and both let out a chuckle, though dad's was a bit more nervous. I couldn't help but grin, at the fact that I still had that type of control over the two Potter men. They were absolutely terrified of getting me angry, particularly dad who had spent all last week trying to make up for his small slip of tongue.

"We were discussing the war." The words filtered in and registered quickly. It was one of the few times dad had every willingly brought up the topic. "I was telling your brother that things are starting to change. More and more people are disappearing every day and the ministry is only doing so much.

It's absolutely maddening! – but people are starting to take their own precautions and… I've heard talk that some parents aren't letting their children back to Hogwarts."

"What?" I breathed, perking up on top of James' steady legs. His arms tightened and I squeezed my hand around his shoulder. "The safest place for them to be is with Dumbledore! He's one of the strongest wizards alive."

"I know. – I think muggle parents are having it the worse. They can't be connected to their own children when there away and they receive even less news about the war than the students." Dad trailed away, locking his eyes with mine. I stared into the burgundy ovals for a long time. They were flashing a deep red, and held mine warmly.

James broke the connection by adding, his voice sending tingles down my back, "what has Dumbledore been saying?"

"It doesn't matter what he's been saying. I won't tolerate having these discussions at the dining room table." Mum snapped, as she plodded along with a plate full of waffles. The steam rose from the still warm pile. Saliva starting collecting in my mouth before I could even smell them, but I swallowed it down as the plate was placed on the table. "Now get to eating before the waffles get cold."

I jumped from James' lap, and scurried around the right side of the table. Dancing around my seat, I grabbed the top waffle and shipped it to my plate. I locked eyes with the maple syrup which sat by James, who had also gotten the same idea. We locked eyes and the two of us glared at each other. I reached my hand out, my knees o top of my seat as I leaned forward. My leg muscles tensed and taunt as they kept my raised.

"Hand it over."

James smirked, the lazy twitch of his lips taunting me. "Not happening, sister dear. You're going to have to wait your turn. – Besides oldest gets privileges" He then grabbed the bottle and began to pour it out slowly. The viscous liquid dripped out and I followed the golden color as it fell and then pooled onto James' plate.

I glared once more as James handed it over to me. The residue of the maple syrup slide down the side of the container, having been carelessly left wobbling at the top once James turned the bottle right side up, and slipping around my fingers. "You've finished half the bottle!"

"And?"

"On one waffle?"

"The more the merrier!" he quipped. He dug his fork into the sweet bread and mopped up some more maple syrup.

I snorted and rolled my eyes again, "James that expression can only be used when referring to people. You're just a pig."

He only glared, and chewed on his large bit. As he swallowed, he left a small bit of maple syrup run down the left corner of his jaw. "Look who's talking."

"I haven't even poured the syrup." I accused, wiggling the bottle and gesturing down to my plate.

James merely shrugged and went back to devouring his waffle. I grimaced as he polished off the plate, and reached for another.

He stuck his hand out again, "Are you done?"

"Seriously?" My lips began to twitch upwards and to quiver as I watched James' hand gesture for the bottle. My eyebrow curved up and I snorted again. I lathered on my own maple syrup and then handed it over to James. "You're a pig."


End file.
